I had a tiny bit of my cervix cut out this morning. It was a
preventative procedure to remove pre-cancerous cells. The nurse was very
careful to stress that the cells were not cancer. I was a bit sad because I
have always been oddly proud of my cervix. I looked forward to the end of a pap
smear when the doctor would say, “Looks healthy!” Like when the dental
hygienist tells you you’ve been doing a good job flossing, I felt comforted and
a bit self-congratulatory. But the last time I had a pap she said, “Looks like
high grade dysplasia”, hence the procedure. And I know it’s not directly my
fault, but I can’t help but feel as though I should have flossed more.

I can’t think of the red shawl without thinking of mothers,
and then my mother and how much I miss her. Particularly on days like today,
when I have little bits of my cervix cut off, because that seems like a mom
thing. My dad took me to the appointment, which I was very grateful for. And
afterwards he asked me if I wanted a coffee, which I did. I didn’t really want
to drink the coffee, but I wanted to hold it, and to smell it, and to remember
something a barista said to me one rainy morning – that coffee heals the
darkness of the pre-dawn.

I have been fantasizing recently of getting away for a
bit. In my fantasies I am sitting on a sunny porch gazing across a lake while
drinking wine and smoking clove cigarettes like a badass. I am talking to a
good friend about a book I just read because I’ve been there long enough to
read a whole book. In my fantasy I have a tan and look good in cut-offs, and my
friend and I laugh in a worldly way about the sad things. As the evening draws
closer it gets a little cold and we grab a blanket or a shawl, it could be the
red shawl, to keep us warm. Later, when I am back at home and unpacking things
I notice that the shawl smells a little bit like clove cigarettes and reminds
me of what a nice time we had.